Shy Boy
by DanceOfSakura
Summary: They always had a label: Fly boy, Bad Boy, Rockstar, Player, Rude boy but then... he finds a Shy Boy.


**Inspired by Jordin Sparks song Shy Boy and plus I wanted a snarky Toshiro for my amusement. **

**Warning: Yaoi if you don't know me by now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Happy Reading! ~DanceOfSakura**

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The street lights were lighting up the sidewalks and the music streamed down the street. Gray brick walls pulsed with life, the sign "Pulse" glow neon red, casting light over excited faces. People chatted with slight inpatients the line moving slowly towards the door. Toshiro stood among the around, fingers running over the red velvet rope. He dressed with the intention of attracting a lover, black leather pants clung shapely to his slight frame. In one pocket his phone dug into his hip and his wallet sat in the other.

It had been a long week and he wanted- no he_ deserved_- to go and enjoy himself. He felt a pang of loneliness that Momo couldn't join him but found her a nice date that he urged her to go on.

'_Kira better treat her right,_' his mind huffs before all thoughts disappear and with a wave he's pulled into the music depths.

Inside the music vibrated off the black wood walls and flashing lights highlight the withering bodies on the dance floor. Booth's and table's line the sides of the bar to the front where the stage sits. Metal stairs lead up to the lounge, surrounded by glass walls. Dj booth over hangs the stage, chrome glowing under the neon lights.

Coal rimmed eyes scan the first floor again when a charming smile catches his attention. Nice clothes, slick hair, and confidence.

_'Classic has it all,'_ his mind deducts, feet already moving over to the lounging figure.

"Hello," the mysterious man says when he's close enough. "I see you around here often."  
Toshiro's eyebrow arches, "Really? That sounds a little stalkerish..."

"Sosuke Aizen and it's merely an observation."

"To your standards," Toshiro says, already writing the man off.

"And you are?" Aizen prompts, taking a swallow of whatever he had chosen that night.

"Hitsugaya."

"No first name?"

"Not at the moment," Teal eyes mentally rolling watching to dark haired women, correction **, wrap around him. "Scratch that never instead."

"Join us for drinks; we make great company," Aizen holds out a hand at the bar, "Sure I can get you home at the end of the night."

Toshiro snorts and physically rolls his eyes, "I'm sorry, STDs aren't my thing."

Aizen watches with interest as the small male struts away before heading to the bar.

_Classic have it all. Smooth, confident, manipulative, and uncommitted._

The lounge is dark and not as crowded, couches lined with drunken couples and boisterous groups. Toshiro sits in the corner, nursing a watermelon martini, getting a full view of the crowd below. His attention is out to the side when he get's the distinct feeling of being watched.

It's a smooth move when the guy sends him a wink. He says something to the figure next to him, whole body graceful and sprung tight.

_'Like a snake,'_ Toshiro appraises, his thoughts already picking the approaching male apart.

Tall, pale, ice blue eyes and a mischievous grin splitting across his face. Air of trouble and mystery surrounds him. _Bad boy._

"Well aren't ya' a pretty thing," the tale male purrs, throwing an arm behind the couch, lifting Toshiro chin with his other hand.

"Expensive too that is if you could handle that," Toshiro challenges, pushing away the strangers hand.

"Fiesty," Gin chuckles, hand toying with the winter locks instead. "Ma' favorite."

"Oh yeah?" Toshiro smiles, pulling the other man close, his lips a breath away from the grinning ones. "I don't think your boyfriend approves."

Smile fading, he winks and saunters out the glass walled room. Gin watches him go smile widening as he leans heavily on the figure that sits close to him, arms hugging him tight.

"Have you no shame?"

Leather bound arms wrap around the pale neck, hands treading in the black tresses. Turning to the side he meets burning gray eyes.

"Jus' playin' wit'em Bya," He winks, tugging the silent man down for a kiss.

Toshiro leans against the metal railing, body racking to the beat trying to scout out his next spot. He stops for a moment when orange passes his sight.

_'Orange?'_ His mind stumbles for a minute. _'Who the hell has orange-Oh."_

The man's hair is in a fact orange, a messy nest of locks that fall into the tan face. He's laid back in one of the corner booths by the bar. His head is resting against the backrest, eyes closed and figure relaxed. Opposite of the group that surrounds him who are loud and brash, half seemingly already intoxicated.

The short male breaks his gaze long enough to move over to the stage. Not close but enough to observe his interest across the room. It's only at another's words that another is actually present.

"You catch a lot of attention," a voice yawns, almost bored in it's statement.

Toshiro turns towards the man next to him and instantly recognizes him as the live performance earlier.

_'Coyote, Starrk. Rock band lead,_" the label fitting to the male, leather pants, see-through shirt, and black out shades.

"What makes you say that?" Toshiro asks, getting a shrug in return.

"It's not hard to miss," Starrk hums, scratching the stubble lightly on his chin. "You reject a lot of guys around here."

"Same ole' thing and same ole' story."

"That's until you catch something of interest," the silver eyes flicking to the corner and back behind the shades.

Toshiro jumps when a small girl jumps on the performer, smacking him around to get to the bus. Sighing, he downs the rest of his drink before getting mixed into the grinding bodies. He's in the center of the floor when large hands grip his hips, rocking with him. From the corner of his eye he can see a gel mess of blue hair and feel the hard chest pressed close to his back.

"We could take this back to my place," the deep voice suggest into his ear, hangs creeping under his shirt.

Toshiro steps away from the wandering hands, shaking his head. "I'm sure the player has enough booty calls."

"I can always use more," the light sky blue eyes sparkle with devilish intent.

"You can find a replacement then," Toshiro bite's out, waving a bye to the grinning male.

_You can always hate the player._

He's at the bar sitting at one of the stools, getting the bartenders service, looking for a stronger drink. His eyes wandered over to the orange haired male in the corner, catching his eye before the red head nudges the man. He looks away seeing the tattooed male say something that really interest the carrot top. His determination to talk to the other man comes to head when he finishes his shot. A light tap has him looking to the side, eyes blinking at the orange haired male standing in front of him.

"Hey," he starts, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I saw you earlier and wanted to talk to you."

"I was actually coming to talk to you," shyness creep up on the teal eyed male, a light blush dusting his face.

"That works out then," Ichigo holds his hand out, body un-tensing. "Names Kurosaki Ichigo by the way."

_'I think I'll call him Shy Boy.'_

Toshiro takes the offered hand, stepping away from the bar. "Hitsugaya, Toshiro."

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**Hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing it! ~DanceOfSakura**


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